Crossroads of Absurdity
by A-Sluggish-Memory
Summary: Mcgonagall, Slughorn, Sprout and Flitwick are forced to overcome their own unfortunate problems in an intertwining tale involving mystery, surprise and a touch of humour.
1. A Gryffindor in Panic

**Mcgonagall's Day**

Minerva McGonagall looked over her square rimmed spectacles onto the weathered grounds of Britain's most historic wizarding school. Hogwarts had survived its fair share of beatings, but the Battle of Hogwarts had resulted in some of the most extensive damage since the school's opening. Mere hours after Harry Potter had at last conquered The Dark Lord, the four Heads of Houses met to discuss the future of the shattered school. A unanimous vote saw the quartet commit to reopening the school for the start of the next school year. They agreed that it would be difficult, but did not want to disadvantage those students with a desire for magical learning.

The months which followed presented a new challenge for the Hogwarts community, who were all dedicated to rebuilding the school brick by brick. It had certainly been a challenge for the staff at Hogwarts, but they were not alone in their aspiration for a reopening. Every day of the week, rain or shine, the Heads of Houses arrived at Hogwarts to start the slow reparation process. They were occasionally joined by fellow staff members, past and current students, and even locals from Hogsmeade, all who wanted to see the school back on its feet.

In no time at all, it was August 31st, one day before students were scheduled to arrive at the school. Headmistress Minerva breathed a sigh of relief as she returned to her desk chair, convinced that Hogwarts would be ready for its reopening. The vast grounds were now free of building rubble and decomposing giant heads, grass and vegetation covering the area once again. All classrooms were fully stocked and the kitchens were jam-packed with fresh produce. Weeks of hard work, both magic and manual, had restored the school to its former glory.

Taking out a long roll of parchment, Minerva unfurled it over her desk, revealing an extended 'to do' list. Elongated quill in hand, she moved her hand to the right of '#532 – Finish construction of new quidditch pitch', and ticked it off.

"We did it, Albus." Minerva exclaimed, smiling at the old headmaster's portrait.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Minerva rose from her desk quickly. "It is so, Albus. Look right here, the final task—com...pleted." Rising her glasses off her head, Minerva squinted at the bottom of the roll of parchment.

'#533- Find a replacement professor for Transfiguration.'

"Oh dear." Minerva remarked, and promptly flew into a state of panic.

If the fact that Minerva hadn't actually finished the list wasn't enough, the fact that she needed to hire a new Professor before tomorrow night was sending her over the edge. As Dumbledore chuckled to himself over Minerva's panic, the witch began rushing around the office, gathering various papers that had been sent to her. Letter after letter, she wrote to each of the applicants requesting them for an interview. After completing and addressing each of the letters, Minerva burst out of her office and to the owlery. Attracting the attention of as many owls as possible, Minerva gave each of the school owls a letter to deliver and proceeded to watch them fly, one by one, out of sight.

This was not how Minerva imagined she would be spending the day. She had convinced herself that the rebuilding of the quidditch pitch was the final task to be completed. Why did she forget the _real_ final task? Hiring her own replacement was certainly a complicated issue she had to overcome. Everything had happened so quickly that it wasn't until Professor Sprout addressed her as Headmistress, did she realise that she actually _was_ Headmistress now.

She was no longer needed to teach Transfiguration, nor was she the head of Gryffindor. This had saddened Minerva quite a bit, as she loved every part of her previous job. This was the task that Minerva always put off for another day. She just didn't want to see someone replace her. Unfortunately, now was the time for someone to take her place, as she took the top job.

In the rush, she barely had time to look at the names of the applicants who sent in their details and began stressing once more. She couldn't do this alone. If she was to hire someone who would replace her, she was going to need some help. Minerva stepped out of the owlery and began pacing down the stone steps to the ground floor. She knew the owls wouldn't take too long to deliver their letters and that the applicants would start arriving soon, so she began to pick up her pace. As she reached the castle, she saw Professor Sprout running up the corridor with a filled sack in her hand.

"Oh, Pomona, did you have a minute?" Minerva asked hopefully, before Professor Sprout could run her over.

"Minerva! Funny seeing you here..." Professor Sprout chortled nervously.

"Yes, funny." Minerva replied, eyeing the woman carefully. "Are you quite alright? I was just wondering if you could —"

"I am very sorry, Minerva, but I must be off. I was just heading to the dungeons to collect some wing of cat... I mean bat! Yes, wing of bat for a potion I was making. Good day to you, Minerva." Professor Sprout clumsily patted Minerva on the shoulder and ran, very irregularly, out of sight.

Perplexed by Professor Sprout's behaviour, Minerva continued into her office to wait for the applicants. "So, the applicants will arrive at my office. I shall be waiting at my desk." Minerva told herself properly. "They will enter and — gosh! They'll need the password! Alright, I will fetch a house elf from the kitchens, tell them the password. They shall let the applicant into the office where I shall be waiting at my desk. Yes, good!" Minerva's stress was certainly showing, though she tried to keep her dignity.

Ten minutes later, Minerva returned from the kitchens with the very house elf who had led a small (but effective) army of his kind to battle.

"Of course. Kreacher is happy to serve the historic school of Hogwarts." spoke the aged house elf.

"Good, good. Now you stand out here and bring the applicants up to me when they arrive. The password is 'toffee'."

"Of course, mistress." Kreacher gave Minerva a low bow and took his place next to the office entrance, as Minerva stepped inside.

Reaching her desk, Minerva sat down and began occupying herself with some paperwork. It wasn't much longer when the door to the office opened and Kreacher led the first applicant inside.

"Kreacher has returned with the evil woman."

"Kreacher, there is no need to be impolite." Minerva told the elf, eyes still on her paperwork. "I am sorry about —"

"Hem hem."

The horrid sound that Minerva hoped to never hear again pierced her ears. She hoped that if she kept doing her paperwork, that it would disappear.

"Hem hem."

She heard the retched noise again and pained herself to lift her head from the paperwork. Standing in front of her was a grotesquely dressed woman in pink who resembled a dying toad. Although Dolores Umbridge looked relatively the same, her face was more worn and her eyes more tired, than a few years ago.

"Kreacher knows the evil woman took Master Regulus' locket!" Kreacher shouted, taking a swipe at Umbridge.

"That's quite alright, Kreacher." Minerva told the elf, I will handle this. "Dolores, just _what_ are you doing here?" Minerva asked angrily. Minerva was quite aware that after the war, upon being declared Minister of Magic, Kingsley had fired Umbridge, but she never expected her to come to Hogwarts begging for a job.

"I have come to apply for the position of Transfiguration professor." Umbridge said sweetly.

"No." Minerva said plainly.

"I'm sorry, I —"

"No." she repeated firmly, scowling ferociously.

"You don't understand! If I don't get another job, they'll send me to Azkaban!"

"Oh, that's awful."

"So, have I got the job?"

"No." Umbridge's face fell. "Take her out, Kreacher."

Kreacher dragged Umbridge out the room by the ankles and proceeded to bring in the next applicant. Following Kreacher looked like to be a very old man with a hunchback and a frail body. He had more wrinkles than anyone Minerva had ever seen, and his hair and beard were longer than even Dumbledore's.

"And you are?" asked Minerva.

"I am Lucard Daspoir." the old man said quietly as he took his seat. "And may I say, that is a lovely scarf you are wearing."

"Thankyou Mr Daspoir, but we really must continue." Minerva said, hiding a slight smile. "Do you have any qualifications?"

"What was that?" Daspoir asked, leaning into Minerva with his hand around his ear.

"Qual-if-ic-ations." She pronounced carefully.

"Why yes, I have been a professor for over 55 years at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, I have studied all my life when it comes to..." The old man trailed off, falling asleep as he began to snore.

"Mr Daspoir?" Minerva asked the sleeping man. "Mr Daspoir?" She asked again, somewhat shouting.

The old man jumped in his chair. "... Transfiguration and, yes, well. That is a lovely scarf you're wearing." He repeated.

"I think we're done here." Minerva told Kreacher. "Thank you, Mr Daspoir." Minerva yelled at the man, as Kreacher pushed him outside.

"Kreacher, please fetch me the next applicant. Let us pray that they will be suitable." Minerva told the elf as he retrieved the next hopeful from outside.

"Get out." Minerva spat, upon looking at the applicant.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Umbridge, who was now wearing a fake moustache.

"This is getting ridiculous." Minerva announced as she rose from her seat. "Dolores, I don't give a baboon's bottom if you get sent to Azkaban or not. You're getting what you deserve from a lifetime of wickedness. Good _day_." And with that, Minerva pushed the woman outside herself and slammed the door behind her.

Just as Minerva reached her desk chair again, there was a knock at the door. "Let them in, Kreacher." Minerva heaved.

"Minerva, do you have a minute?" squeaked Professor Flitwick, whose eyes barely saw over her desk.

"Oh, it's you, Filius." Minerva started, looking over at Kreacher. "Are there anymore applicants outside?"

"Just one more." Kreacher replied.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, well, I guess I can help you for a moment. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, excellent! I was hoping I could dip into Dumbledore's old stash of chewing gum. I, uh, have always wanted to try some."

"Oh, of course." Minerva said, quite perplexed. "He kept it in that top drawer right over there, that's right."

Flitwick had found the drawer and took a single packet out of the box.

"You can take more if you like. I've never really cared for chewing gum."

"Oh, no. One is quite enough! Thankyou Minerva." Flitwick piped, bouncing out of the office.

"Right." Minerva said, composing herself. "Send in the last applicant."

For the final time, Kreacher left the room and returned with yet another applicant.

The witch's hair was jet black and straight. She wore a black witch's hat, her robes, tattered and grey. But what was more noticeable was her face; it gave off a sickly green glow, almost like a stereotypical Muggle witch, warts covering her face.

"My name is Dulcina Binns." she announced, before Minerva could get a word in. "Yes, before you ask, I have a distant ancestor who already works at this school, Cuthbert, I believe his name is. I hear he is known for his long-winded speeches which rarely go anywhere but as you can see that is not the case when it comes to me." Minerva let out a burst of laughter, which went unnoticed by Binns. "Although my qualifications and previous job experience is more than enough evidence to prove that I would be a capable Transfiguration professor, I have outlined 10 reasons why you should hire me. 1-"

As Binns droned on about why she should be given the job, Minerva looked more closely at the woman. She seemed firm, strict—the students will hate her, she thought. Minerva could not help thinking that her replacement would be more liked than she would, so she came to a decision. "I'm going to stop you right there, Dulcina. I have taken into consideration the points you have given me and have decided to give you the job."

"I thought so." Dulcina remarked.

Minerva let out a devious smile. "Very well, your quarters are located on the ground floor adjacent to the transfiguration classroom. I wish you —"

_Boom!_

The force of the explosion threw the occupants of the office to the floor, as Hogwarts shook from the impact.


	2. A Slytherin in a Pickle

**Slughorn's Day**

Horace Slughorn squeezed into his favourite lilac dressing gown and toppled out of his bed. With no students around to see him in this casual state of dressing, the potions master proudly exited his sleeping quarters and waddled in the direction of the staff room. As he walked, he noticed that his feet seemed to get sore a lot quicker, and breathing was becoming a considerably more difficult task. The Second Wizarding War had certainly taken its toll on the aging professor, who was on the run from Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters for years. Nevertheless, the thought of opening a brand new box of crystallised pineapple, in which he left in the staff room the previous evening, was far too tempting to pass up. Although at this point, the staff room was mere metres away, Horace decided that a short break to catch his breath was a clever plan. One look at the courtyard could remind the old man of the suffering in which the school had been through. The spot which had once been taken up by a favoured lavender plant was now a mere patch of daisies. Everything which once grew abundantly in this space had been replaced by brand new flora.

Admittedly, Horace Slughorn had done the least out of the four heads of house in order to repair the school. The fact that he had now reached the staff room and was stuffing himself with generous portions of crystallised pineapple was clearly evidence of this. He had, however, sorted out many of the issues involving potions lessons as well as managing to find some lost ingredients abroad.

However, his main desire was to find a larger office to reside in. Despite the fact that he told McGonagall that his previous office was destroyed, the Headmistress knew full well that it had received hardly a scratch. Nevertheless, using this excuse meant that Horace was able to claim Severus Snape's old teaching office.

"This is the life." Horace mumbled to himself, his mouth full of pineapple. Just as he was about to squash a thirteenth piece into his mouth, the door of the staff room sprung open.

"There you are!"

"Merlin's beard!" yelled Horace, who toppled backwards in his chair.

"Oh goodness!" Flitwick squeaked, as he scurried over to the Potions Master. "I did not mean to startle you, Horace."

"Ah, Filius." Horace voiced, trying to find his bearings. "It is quite alright. What can I do for you?"

Flitwick blinked rapidly. He was not expecting to share his problem with Slughorn so abruptly. "Oh, well, I require your assistance, Horace. With a... with a potion, yes!"

"A potion you say? And what potion might this be?"

"I would prefer not to share details; I simply need help finding a book I require. Tugwood's Book of Potions, I believe it is called. I haven't the slightest clue on where in the library it could be. Irma doesn't seem to be around."

"Tugwood, Tugwood... isn't that the witch who specialises in —"

"Yes, that's the one!" Flitwick squealed nervously. "And if you don't mind, we can head off to the library right now."

Taken aback by Flitwick's bizarre behaviour, Horace had no choice but to follow Flitwick to the library. As the pair reached their destination, they were greeted by Professor Sprout, who was pruning some nearby hedges, as well as Mrs Norris, who was sprawled out in the garden bed.

"Pomona." Flitwick acknowledged, nodding his head in her direction before quickly entering the library.

Horace laughed. "I am sorry about that, Pomona. Filius doesn't seem to be himself today. How have you been?"

"Quite well, thank you. I've almost completed all of the castle's gardening, with the help of Rubeus and Argus, of course."

"And what is the strange device you are using? Surely you can trim the hedges using magic?"

"What? Oh yes." Sprout exclaimed, looking down at her electric shears. "Arthur Weasley was in here a few days ago and suggested I use this muggle gardening tool. He says that it's a lot more efficient than magic means, and neater too!" The herbology professor pressed a small red button on the device and it immediately sprang to life. The blades, rapidly opening and closing, allowing Sprout to trim the hedges with ease. "See!"

"How wonderful!"

"Yes, yes. The only problem is occasionally I can't seem to turn them off. They wear out eventually though; I'll just leave them here for awhile." Sprout explained, leaving the shears in the garden bed. "I might see what Filius is up to."

"Tell him I'll be right there, I just need to collect something from my office." Horace told Sprout anxiously.

Sprout eyed him suspiciously and entered the library. The truth was, Horace couldn't handle it for much longer, his desire for another piece of crystallised pineapple was growing. Taking out another box from his dressing gown pocket, he guiltily removed the packaging and began to devour the sweets. If it wasn't for Mrs Norris, he probably would have consumed the entire box. For there, with a bird hanging out of her mouth was the caretaker's cat. The bird itself was nearly the size of Mrs Norris, but that didn't stop her. Blood dripped out of the bird as Mrs Norris dug her sharp teeth into it, ready to eat her lunch. Disgusted by this feast, Horace put away his pineapple and proceeded to enter the library. Closing the door behind him, he glimpsed the cat fling the bird out of its mouth and into the shears, breaking both the shears, and the bird.

"Got it, Horace!" Flitwick told the Potions Master, as he darted out of the library.

After wishing the tiny professor luck, Horace waddled over to where Professor Sprout was standing. "Well, I guess it's just you and me, Pomona. Would you mind helping me locate a book as well?"

It was at that moment when Horace realised that Professor Sprout would probably have to return to her gardening. "I really am sorry, Horace, but I must get on with my gardening." Sprout explained, confirming Horace's guess. "Good luck!"

"Not a problem, Pomona." He told her as she exited the library. "I'm sure I can find it myself."

Horace was looking for a book that he knew for a fact was in the Restricted Section of the library. _Moste Pontente Potions by Phineus Bourne_ was a book that he had read a number of times, though he often forgot specific details involving a lot of the book's content. Normally, he would simply ask Madam Pince to open the Restricted Area for him, though without her around, he felt guilty breaking in without her. That is why he wanting the company of someone else, to lessen the blow on him if she were to find out. Nevertheless, Horace plucked up the courage to bounce over to the Restricted Section to unlock it.

"Alohomora." he whispered, as he pushed open the iron door. "Jolly good." He announced, closing the door behind him. "Let's see... B for Bourne." Horace said to himself, scanning a nearby shelf.

"In here, darling!"

The unmistakable sound of Madam Pince's voice echoed around the library. Horace froze and ran behind one of the shelves.

"Ooh, how about in the Restricted Section?" Madam Pince laughed, as her voice grew louder.

Horace had never heard Irma Pince talk like this before. She was normally very firm and solemn, not fun and flirtatious. There was no mistaking that she was heading in Horace's direction. He had to act fast. Just as he saw Madam Pince's feet on the other side of the shelves, Horace transfigured himself into a large, lilac armchair.

The next few moments were some of the most awkward of the old potion master's life.

He stayed there, stuck as an armchair, as Madam Pince emerged wearing a transparent black nightgown which left little to the imagination. Not another moment passed when Argus Filch came around the corner, wearing a dusty brown bathrobe.

_Oh no_, Horace thought to himself.

The pair embraced each other in a fiery display of passion, as Horace was forced to look on in disgust. Lips locked, they fell to the ground and began rolling around on the library floor.

_This cannot be happening_, Horace thought desperately.

"Take me, Argus! Take me right here on the library floor!" Pince begged lustfully.

Filch got up from the woman and let out a wheezy chuckle. "You dirty, dirty girl."

Before Horace had a chance to block out what had just happened, Filch ripped off his dusty robe, exposing his own naked body, and jumped on top of Madam Pince. Horace had never been so scarred in his life. The pair were going at it like a couple of acromantualas, legs everywhere. Soon enough, Madam Pince's own clothing was flying over the library, only to land on the large, lilac armchair. Horace would have given anything to get out of this sticky situation he now faced. Unfortunately, their never ending sexual conquest didn't seem to stop. If Horace could have vomited, he would have. It was the most disgusting thing that he had ever seen.

"How about we experiment somewhere more... comfortable?" Pince suggested seductively, and placed a hand on the disguised Potions Master.

_You've got to be kidding me_, Slughorn worried.

Filch nodded and Pince began pacing backwards, before falling on the disguised armchair. Filch was so quick to follow that the lustful activity was not short-lived.

_This was it_, Horace thought to himself. _This will actually be the death of me._

It wasn't until an extremely odd circumstance forced the couple to end their passionate displays of affection. At that very moment, a large man wearing a lilac dressing gown burst into the Restricted Section. Sporting a large walrus moustache and holding a box of crystallised pineapple, Horace Slughorn stared at the couple, terror etched on his face.

"Aghh!" Pince and Filch cried, upon seeing the intruder.

"Aghh!" he yelled, dropping his belongings.

This was Horace's chance. Transfiguring back into a human, he yelled at the imposter, "Who on earth are you?"

"Aghh!" screamed the couple and the imposter, shocked by the appearance of a second Slughorn.

_Boom!_

"Aghh!" all four of them screamed, as they ducked for cover in the explosion.


	3. A Hufflepuff in Distress

**Sprout's Day**

Pomona Sprout attacked the stubborn hedge with such fury that soon, no hedge remained. The herbology professor looked down at her muggle gardening tool and gave out a satisfying smile. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, Professor Sprout joined forces with Rubeus Hagrid and Argus Filch to restore Hogwarts' plant and garden life. Despite the fact that most of the original vegetation had to be replaced, the trio did a great job in bringing life back into the castle. As the months went on, Sprout began to grow bored of the repetitive gardening in which she was not used to. She was accustomed to dealing with mandrakes and Devil's snare, not daisies and buttercups. It wasn't until a few days before the beginning of school, when the Weasley family arrived to assist in the castle repairs. Noticing Pomona's obvious loathing for her new job, Arthur Weasley offered her the chance to use a traditional muggle gardening tool to increase productivity and enjoyment. Although sceptical at first about this strange piece of equipment, Pomona soon grasped the concept of the 'electric shears' and rediscovered her passion in gardening again.

Regardless of the fact that she had destroyed the first hedge, she was determined not to do so with the second hedge. Just as Pomona began carefully pruning the hedge, she was greeted by a nervous Flitwick, who ran straight into the library, followed by a tired looking Slughorn who exchanged some light small talk involving Pomona's gardening.

"Quite well, thankyou." Pomona replied oversweetly. The truth was that Professor Sprout never really liked Slughorn. Everything from his putrid breath so his bulging belly, she hated. "I've almost completed all of the castle's gardening, with the help of Rubeus and Argus, of course." She continued, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible.

"And what is the strange device you are using? Surely you can trim the hedges using magic?" Slughorn asked her. _What an idiot_, she thought. Of course she could trim them by magic. Slughorn obviously didn't know why she was gardening 'the muggle way', which forced Pomona to give the man an explanation.

"What? Oh yes." Pomona exclaimed, looking down at her electric shears. "Arthur Weasley was in here a few days ago and suggested I use this muggle gardening tool. He says that it's a lot more efficient than magic means, and neater too!" Pressing the small red button on the shears, Pomona proudly exclaimed "See!"

After explaining to Slughorn that she couldn't turn them off, she left them in the garden bed and went into the library to escape from the man.

"Are you alright, Filius?" Pomona called out as she watched the tiny charms professor dart from shelf to shelf.

"Oh yes. I am just looking for a book..." Flitwick paused in the middle of a shelf and began running his fingers across the book. "Tugwood, Tugwood..." He muttered to himself.

"Tugwood?" Pomona shouted, surprising Flitwick. "Most beautiful witch of her generation, I say. What do you need one of her books for?"

Flitwick, who was clearly shocked that Pomona had heard him, began sweating profusely. "Oh, uh, no reason. Just a little research." Flitwick wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Aha! Just what I'm looking for." Flitwick announced, pulling the large book off the shelf.

"Do you need any help carry—"

"No, none at all, thankyou!" Flitwick squeaked, struggling to hold the heavy book out of the library. "Got it, Horace!" He told the potions master, who had returned to the library.

"Oh, alright then, Filius. Good luck!" Slughorn called out, slightly confused. "Well I guess it's just you and me, Pomona. Would you mind helping me find a book as well?"

Pomona had no desire to spend her day searching for a book with a disgusting old man so opted for an excuse to get out of it. "I really am sorry Horace. But I must get on with my gardening." Pomona explained as she tottered over to the door. "Good luck!"

So with that, Pomona slammed the library door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately for her, this feeling did not last long, as her eyes were drawn to her electric shears. She had expected that they would stop working, though she did not foresee that the blades would be covered in cat hair and blood. As she edged closer and peered into the garden bed, she saw the corpse of an animal which had been sliced by the blades.

"Mrs Norris?" She asked the corpse hopefully. It did not answer. "Oh goodness me, Argus is going to kill me." The fear and distress Pomona was feeling was clearly etched on her face. Then, in a moment of panic, she grabbed the sack she had used for her garden clippings and stuffed the corpse, the garden shears and as much cat hair as she could grab, into the sack. She let out a nervous laugh. "Okay, nothing happened here. No-one has to find out." In the distance, she could see a vague outline of a man coming towards her. Squinting her eyes in the direction of the figure, Pomona attempted to get a better look at the man.

It was Argus Filch.

Rapidly turning her feet on the spot, Pomona tossed the sack over her shoulder and began running erratically through the school corridors, whilst still laughing manically.

Sack in hand, Pomona darted in and out of classrooms in hopes of finding a place to conceal herself. She had no real idea of what she was going to do but was certain that she needed to hide the evidence somewhere. In her head, she went over all the places in which she could hide the corpse and her electric shears. Every place she seemed to think of, though, was bound to be discovered by students at one time or another.

_Perhaps I'll have to leave the school forever, _she thought, eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, Pomona, did you have a minute?" She heard a voice ask.

Regretfully stopping, Pomona turned to face Minerva Mcgonagall, who looked as equally stressed as she was. "Minerva! Funny seeing you here..."

"Yes, funny." Mcgonagall replied, eyeing Pomona in suspicion. "Are you quite alright? I was just wondering if you could —"

"I am very sorry, Minerva, but I must be off." Pomona said abruptly, who had no desire to help the woman. "I was just heading to the dungeons to collect some wing of cat... I mean bat! Yes, wing of bat for a potion I was making." Pomona explained quickly. "Good day to you, Minerva."

Deciding against waiting for a reply, Pomona continued on her run through the castle. Corridor, after corridor she flew through. Up and down the stairs she travelled. A quick decision soon forced her into one of the second floor bathrooms.

"Yes, perfect!" Pomona cried to herself. "I shall simply flush my problems away!" She laughed hysterically.

"Ooh! Pommy's got a problem!" A voice wailed from behind a nearby lavatory.

"Myrtle!" Pomona screeched, throwing her sack into the air.

"Oh you remember me now?" Myrtle asked, swooping in front of Pomona. "You've ignored me every time I've visited the greenhouses."

"I—I was teaching, Myrtle. That's different."

"Oh, so that's it? I die and then we just lose contact?" Myrtle howled. "Not once since you started teaching have you come to look for me!"

"I've been busy, I—"

"We were _best friends_." Myrtle recalled. "What happened?"

"I just..." Pomona replied, as she began welling up.

"Spit it out!" Myrtle told her angrily.

"I didn't want to believe it."

The bathroom became silent for a moment.

"What?" Myrtle asked, astonished.

"I never wanted to find you because I couldn't believe that you had actually died." Pomona cried, tears streaming down her face.

Myrtle outstretched her ghostly arms and attempted to give Pomona a hug. Despite the fact that her arms went straight through her, Pomona knew the gesture was there. Myrtle was never one for hugs.

"I've missed you Pommy." Myrtle told Pomona sincerely.

Silence fell once more as they both attempted to contain themselves.

"Killed Filch's cat, did you?" Myrtle laughed.

Pomona gasped in horror. "But how did you—"

"Peeves let it slip." Shrugged Myrtle.

"Ah, well. That's that, then. I don't suppose you could help me with all this stuff?" Pomona asked, holding up the sack.

"We _could _destroy the evidence. _Or _we could have a bit of fun ourselves."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, say you weren't the one who killed the cat. Say, it was—"

"Someone else." Pomona finished. "Are you saying that we should frame somebody else of this crime?"

"Well..."

_They'll be no way I'll ever get the Headmistress job if they find out_, Pomona thought deceitfully.

"If that's what has to be done then." Pomona sighed. "I'll do it."

"Wonderful!" Myrtle giggled diabolically. "Now we just need an unlucky victim."

"Someone who would be easy to frame... How about Hagrid?" Suggested Pomona.

"Meh, that's been done." Myrtle reminded her. "How about Professor Slughorn, he was the reason you failed potions, remember?"

A wicked smile grew on Pomona's face. "Yes, Horace! Oh Myrtle this is perfect." Pomona laughed. "I really do appreciate your help Myrtle. I promise to visit more often." Pomona told her, as she left the bathroom with her sack.

Pomona resumed her frenzied running style as they made her way to Slughorn's office. After a good ten minutes inside, Pomona returned with four of Slughorn's possessions; a box of crystillized pineapple, a handful of armchair stuffing, one of his lilac robes, and a bottle of polyjuice potion. "Jackpot!" Pomona screamed out, stuffing the items into her sack. Pomona's erratic behaviour was now, not fuelled by distress, but my excitement and adrenalin. This prompted her to change from running through the corridors, to clumsily skipping through them. Like this, she managed to skip all the way back to the library—the scene of the crime.

Looking around hesistantly, Pomona placed the sack on the ground and approached the library doors. She pressed her ears against the solid wood and heard vague sounds resembling moaning.

_Somebody is obviously in trouble, _Pomona thought to herself.

"They'll have to wait." She said out loud. "This is more important." Despite choosing her own personal fate over a possibly dying person, she tried to complete her task as quickly as possible so she could assist the one in need. Emptying her sack into the garden bed, Pomona removed the hedge trimmings and lay the shears and corpse out in front of her. She then proceeded to sprinkle handfuls of armchair stuffing and cat hair around the corpse and carefully place pieces of crystallized pineapple and the display. "Lovely." She told herself, admiring her 'art'. She then took a hair off Slughorn's gown and added it to his stash of polyjuice potion. Once it had turned a questionable yellow colour, Pomona began drinking the potion.

Soon enough, she had transformed into the overweight, moustached potions master. "I feel tainted." Pomona announced, in Slughorns deep voice.

_Now, _she thought. _I just need to get someone's attention._

Pomona looked around the area but saw no-one so took it upon herself to yell for some attention. "Oh, um—Merlin's beard! I say, what have I done?" She said stiffly, attempting to imitate Slughorn's mannerisms.

Nothing happened.

"Oh for goodness sake..." Pomona cried, marching into the library holding a box of crystallized pineapple.

_Perhaps I can express my guilt to the distressed soul in the library, _she thought.

The moaning and groaning was a lot clearer now, and there seemed to be two people there—not in trouble. Rounding the corner and approaching the unlocked Restricted Section, Pomona discovered the source of the noise.

"Aghh!" Madam Pince and Argus Filch cried, upon seeing the disguised Pomona.

"Aghh!" Pomona yelled in disgust.

Pomona then saw, at the corner of her eye, an armchair on the wall beginning to move. It soon transfigured into the real Horace Slughorn.

"Aghh!" screamed Pomona and the Couple, shocked by the appearance of a second Slughorn.

_Boom!_

"Aghh!" all four of them screamed, as they ducked for cover in the explosion.


	4. A Ravenclaw in Longing

**Flitwick's Day**

Filius Flitwick cried himself to asleep with the reassurance that he would die alone. As morning broke and Filius awoke from his slumber, it was only a split second before he remembered the disaster of last night. Never married, Filius spent most of his life focusing on his thirst for knowledge. The thought of finding a wife and having a family never seemed to cross his mind. It wasn't until the end of the Second Wizarding War in which Filius put his life in perspective. He realised that he had never had someone to love, someone to care for. The one thought which stayed with him whilst he was battling for Hogwarts was that if he died, there would be no one would truly miss him. Sure, friends and students would be upset with his passing, but he would just be lost in the countless other causalities of the war. It was this thought which prompted him to look for his true love. Despite the fact that he was nearing on 70 years of age, Filius believed he could still find someone that could love him. He had been on several dates which all usually ended in the same place, misery.

Last night, he met with a woman which caused him to lose all hope for finding love. The woman happened to be the sister of Professor Septima Vector, who took it upon herself to set the pair up. Being a blind date, Filius was extremely nervous about what she would think of him. Unfortunately, these worries were justified when the sister first laid her eyes on Filius. She was so taken aback on how tiny the professor was, that she had to be escorted out of the restaurant by a group of waiters. This was, as Professor Flitwick put it, the final straw. Every single one his recent dates had ended like this, all because of his small stature. Filius had to put a stop to this. He managed to track down a potioneer, Sacharissa Tugwood, who was the first witch to use beauty potions. Although most credited for her de-wrinkling solution and anti-pimple cream, her later life saw her create one of her most sought after potions, one which saw the drinker grow to an impressive height. Unable to find Madam Pince to assist him in finding Tugwood's book, Filius sought out Slughorn as a suitable replacement.

After surprising the potions master in the staff room, Filius managed to convince Slughorn to assist him in finding the book. A quick greeting to Professor Sprout who was gardening outside, and Filius darted into the library in search for the book. He had, admittedly, always used Madam Pince's help when finding a book, so it was quite a struggle. With little time to find out what system they used, Filius had no choice but to go from shelf to shelf trying to find the book. After searching through patronus charm, pea soup and portrait framing books, the tiny professor finally managed to find the area designated for potions.

Filius thought he heard Professor Sprout say something as she entered the library, so he thought he should give her a response. "Oh yes. I am just looking for a book..." Filius paused in the middle of a shelf and began running his fingers across the book. "Tugwood, Tugwood..." He muttered to himself.

Ignoring Professor Sprout's useless commentary and explaining that this was all for research purposes, Filius finally managed to find the book. "Aha! Just what I'm looking for." Filius announced, pulling the large book off the shelf.

Refusing help from Sprout, thanking Slughorn on the way out, Filius struggled with the book as he bustled out the library.

_BAM!_

Filius slammed the book on the concrete, scaring a nearby Mrs Norris.

"Now, let's see..." Filius spoke to himself, turning to the contents page. "There! Size potions- page 167." Rapidly flicking the pages over until he found the page, Filius located the potion which he desired. "Okay, what's on this ingredients list?"

Half a bottle of Skele-gro

6 Snake fangs

A shrunken neck of a giraffe

3 Valerian Sprigs

2 tufts of cat hair

A packet of muggle chewing gum

"Cat hair?" Filius questioned, eyebrows raised. His eyes darted towards Mrs Norris. In one swift motion, he darted towards the cat and pulled out some hair, before it hastily ran away. "Ah, not nearly enough!" Filius whispered, scattering the cat hair around the garden. "Come back here!" Filius yelled. "Wingardium leviosa." Filius squeaked, as the large book began floating alongside him.

"Stupefy!" Filius screeched, directing his wand at the escaping cat. Filius and the following book made their way over to Mrs Norris. "Ugh," he remarked, looking down at the stunned cat. "I did not want to do that." Filius bent down and pulled out a large chunk of the cat's hair. Stuffing it into his pocket, Filius directed his attention to the floating book beside him.

"Oh let's see... half a bottle of Skele-gro—I can retrieve some from Poppy upstairs. There should be a stock of snake fangs, valerian sprigs and giraffe neck in the dungeons." Filius momentarily paused. "Now the chewing gum... that's going to be the challenge." Filius thought long and hard to come up with a solution. He knew that he had encountered chewing gum at Hogwarts at one point in his career.

_Think Filius, think._

And then it came to him.

"Dumbledore!" Filius squealed. "Dumbledore kept a stock of muggle chewing gum in his office — he brought it out every Christmas!" Filius started jogging through the corridors with Tugwood's oversized book right behind. "I must ask Minerva." he panted, as he reached the Headmistress' office.

"Toffee." Filius announced to the stone gargoyle, ignoring the dark haired woman standing outside. Racing up the steps, he knocked firmly on the office door.

A couple moments passed and an elderly house elf opened the door. "Minerva, do you have a minute?" Filitwick asked, as he stepped over to McGonagall's desk.

"Oh, it's you, Filius." McGonagall started, looking over at Kreacher. "Are there anymore applicants outside?"

"Just one more." Kreacher replied.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, well, I guess I can help you for a moment. What seems to be the problem?"

Filius briefly explained that he desired some of Dumbledore's chewing gum (using a false explanation of course). McGonagall had no objections to this request and Filius managed to walk away with one packet of Dumbledore's gum.

"Thank you Minerva." Filius piped, bouncing out of the office.

_SMACK!_

Filius had run straight into the dark haired woman who was standing outside McGonagall's office.

"Oh my dear, I am so sorry!" Filius apologized, gently patting the woman's shins in which he hit.

"That is quite alright. In the future I suggest you look where you are going. In fact, I once had a distant relative who injured his leg while..." the woman trailed on.

Due to her self-absorbed, verbose nature, Filius managed to sneak away from the woman in search for Madam Pomfrey, the school matron. With his pockets stuffed with cat hair and chewing gum, and the giant book struggling to keep up with him, Filius at last tracked down Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing.

"Poppy!" Filius panted, struggling to regain his breath. "I was — just — wandering — if..." Filius then continued to mumble incoherently in a voice which no normal person would be able to understand.

"You wish to borrow some Skele-gro? Of course, I have half a bottle in the back." Madam Pomfrey translated, bustling off to her office.

"But—how did you understand that?" Filius yelled, as she returned with the bottle.

"I have spent over thirty years dealing with patients with all sorts of voice problems. A little bit of mumbling is not going to deter me." Madam Pomfrey replied, passing Flitwick the bottle.

"Ah—I see. Well, I cannot thank you enough for this Poppy. Good day to you."

"Good day to you too." Madam Pomfrey said sincerely. "Oh, and Filius—you do know you are being followed by a large book, correct?" Madam Pomfrey asked, eyeing Tugwood's book curiously.

"Oh, yes." Flitwick smiled, as he left Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing for the Dungeons, dumbfounded. "I do indeed."

As he made his way down the stairs, Filius could have sworn he saw Dolores Umbridge crying and hugging a statue of armour, but had little interest or time to check. Ingredients in tow, Filius reached the dungeons in no time at all. Checking the room for Slughorn quickly, Filius found himself a spare bench and lay out the book, ingredients and a nearby cauldron set, in front of him. He found the remaining ingredients around the room, and began reading the potion's method aloud to himself as he completed the instructions.

_Finely chop the Valerian sprigs and add to the cauldron._

_Combine the Skele-gro and cat hair in a separate beaker, then add to the cauldron._

_Heat up the cauldron until the contents become a dark green colour._

_Stir counter-clockwise three times._

_Add six snake fangs to the cauldron one at a time, stirring clockwise once, after each one._

_Add the chewing gum and giraffe neck (IMPORTANT: MAKE SURE THAT YOU ADD THESE INGREDIENTS IN THE AFOREMENTIONED ORDER)_

_BOOM!_

Filius was thrown backwards and hurtled through the air, landing in the corner of the Dungeon. The explosion, luckily, had sounded worse than it was. Although the majority of the bench Filius was working on had melted, and the ceiling above the bench had fallen apart, the rest of the room was left relatively unscathed. A thick yellow smoke bellowed out of the spot where Filius' cauldron once lay, and soon the entire room was drowned in it. Despite not being knocked out, Filius had a mighty bump on his head and was covered head to toe in the noxious yellow gas.

As Flitwick attempted to open his eyes, he noticed a variety of figures appearing at the Dungeon Door coming towards him. Once the excess gas had escaped through this new opening, Filius could recognize those standing in front of him. A host of recurring individuals who had been at Hogwarts today were standing in front of him. Minerva McGonagall, Professor Binns, Kreacher the house elf, Dolores Umbridge, Madam Pomfrey, Moaning Myrtle, Argus Filch, Madam Pince and what looked to be two Horace Slughorns, were staring down at Filius in shock.

"Goodness me!" McGonagall cried fearfully, as she ran over to the tiny charms professor. "What has happened here, Filius?"

Filius coughed some smoke out of his mouth. "Well, I might have had a tiny potions mishap. Added ingredients in the wrong order, I believe..."

"Tiny mishap?" Filch exclaimed. "This is going to take days to clear up!" he said irritably.

"_Not _with magic, Argus." McGonagall reminded him. The squib eyed her bitterly.

"I really am sorry." choked Filius. "I was merely attempting a potion I read..."

"And what potion might this be?" asked Madam Pomfrey intently.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm comfortable—"

"Master Flitwick doesn't have to lie anymore. Kreacher knows Master Flitwick has been lying." Kreacher told him, seemingly indifferent to the situation.

"Oh—fine." Filius cleared his throat. "The reason I wanted to make this potion was to make me taller."

No one spoke for a few moments.

Moaning Myrtle let out a demeaning laugh. "You wanted to be taller?"

"Yes I did!" Filius shouted, holding his ground. "I am sick of woman looking down on me all the time and not giving me a chance."

"You did this for a woman?" Madam Pince asked inquisitively.

"That is correct." Filius replied.

"Oh for goodness sake, Filius! You do not need to be taller for women to become attracted to you. You only need to be yourself!" McGonagall told him, matter-of-factly.

"But you see, Minerva—"

"No buts, Filius! This was a ridiculous plan which was destined for failure. You should have known better than this and I do hope that when the students arrive, you don't demonstrate any of your stupidity again." McGonagall announced bluntly. "I suggest next time if you're in need of some potions skills, you ask Horace. Isn't that right Horace?" Turning her head towards one of the Slughorns.

"I'm sorry, but I am not Horace Slughorn." replied the Slughorn imposter.

Those who had been in the library had forgot entirely about the unusual situation they had encountered moments earlier. Now, all the eyes had directed themselves at the two Slughorns that were standing side by side.

"_I _am the real Horace Slughorn." Slughorn told the crowd. "This man is an imposter!"

"Actually, it's just me—Pomona." The disguised Professor Sprout told the shocked crowd. "I never meant to come across the real Slughorn but he kind of surprised us." Pomona explained, as Filch and Pince exchanged awkward glances. "But, I was just having a little breakdown after I killed Mrs Norris, so I thought I should—"

"Just wait one minute here." Filch interrupted. "You _killed _my cat?"

"Yes, but it was an accident and I admit I tried to cover it up but—"

"_YOU _KILLED MY CAT!" Filch screamed, lunging at Sprout. "You wicked woman!"

"I know, I really am sorry, Argus!" Sprout wept, avoiding Filch's attacks. "I even intended on framing Horace so then—"

"What?" the real Horace Slughorn bellowed. "Why would you want to frame _me_?"

"Well, I didn't want to take the blame so I thought I should—"

"Meow."

The sound interrupted Sprout as the crowd turned to see Mrs Norris at the dungeon door.

"Oh, that is right! I had momentarily stunned Mrs Norris to retrieve some of her hair... albeit, not another bright idea on my part." Filius added, as his eyes met McGonagall's infuriated gaze.

The crowd was totally stunned by this point as their own mind tried to take in all of this new information.

"If I may say a word?" Umbridge requested.

"NO." the mob roared, pushing Umbridge outside.

You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife, it was so tense. Filch looked like he wanted to kill both of the Slughorns.

"Alright." McGonagall proclaimed. "Everything has worked out; there is no reason for any misgivings." she suggested, sensing the obvious tension in the room. "Filius is alright, Mrs Norris is safe and there are no hard feelings between anyone — correct?"

Filch eyed the Slughorns and reluctantly agreed. The entire crowd of beings were looking between them and Filch, like an exceptionally interesting tennis match. "Correct." he eventually said, grudgingly.

"Excellent!" McGonagall cheered. "I guess everything has worked out for the best!"

Most of the dungeon's occupants nodded in agreement.

The newly instated Professor Binns cleared her throat. "The best?" she asked sceptically, as the attention became focused on her. "You call all of this '_working out for the best_'? We have just come out of one of the most devastating wars of our generation. Hundreds of muggles and wizards alike, were murdered at the hands of Lord Voldemort and his death eaters. Children were cruelly separated from their parents and family homes were destroyed with no remorse. Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody and countless other great wizards were killed, trying to put an end to this war. Families were torn apart, innocent people were falsely imprisoned and we witnessed our once great Ministry of Magic fall. Months on from the end of the war, the whole magical population of Britain is still struggling to recover from these tragic, tragic events – and you say that everything has worked out? Solving your own outlandish problems in a day's work is not _everything working out for the best_. The fact that you're here squabbling over stupid things like killing cats and wanting dates, while a whole nation is still in shock over the events that transpired is — is... ugh!" Professor Binns fainted in frustration onto the cold stone floor of the Dungeon. The group stared down at her in astonishment.

"Lunch?" the still-disguised Sprout suggested, disregarding Professor Binns' rant.

"Sure." Filius agreed, shrugging off Binns' concerns.

And so the occupants of Hogwarts castle were treated to a feast from Kreacher and the kitchen house elves. They continued with their outlandish lives and had no desire to remember the horrors which they once faced.

All was well.


End file.
